


Anyone But Her

by eccentric_artist_221b



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Innocence, Irondad, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter really needs his dad, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Michelle Jones, Puppy Love, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-12 01:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19555183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eccentric_artist_221b/pseuds/eccentric_artist_221b
Summary: “I want him,” he chokes out against her hoodie, grabbing the hem of it for dear life, “I want Mr. Stark.”Peter feels a kiss on his temple, warmth lingering there for a moment before more travel down over his cheek and nose as his chest continues wracking in pain.“I bet…he wants you too…wherever he is…” MJ murmurs.





	Anyone But Her

One Instagram post…

That’s all it takes for Peter Parker to finally break down in sobs.

He’s just taken on highly unstable illusionists, a repetitive onslaught of powerful drone attacks and a train slamming, full speed, in to his body…

But when a classmate proudly presents that they’ve visited Tony Stark’s actual tombstone…photo proof and all via bright, blown up PowerPoint presentation in a darkened classroom, it’s apparently the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

Somehow, he makes it to the bathroom, retching hard into the toilet as wave after wave of nausea hits him.

A pins and needles sensation forms in his fingertips…threatening to force his hands in to fists and remain that way.

_…dirt…bones…_

_Mr. Stark’s bones…_

_And decay…his mentor’s remains rotting inside rusty metal…spiders crawling out of eye sockets and it’s all coming towards him…_

_Mysterio’s illusions…._

It hadn’t been the first time being traumatized with the image of Tony’s body decomposing six feet under in a casket.

He had woken May up on the night before the funeral, begging her to not let them put Mr. Stark in the ground….that he didn’t want anything touching his mentor’s body, and…

_‘isn’t there anything else we can do?!’_

Therapy came the following week…

…though, he quit four days later after the lady he’s assigned to begins asking too many questions that could blow his cover. 

May, reluctantly, allowed it…provided he open up to her instead.

And he had tried…gave it his best shot…

…but he never, really, could let it all out until he was safe, burrowed under several layers of blankets, listening to music with his headphones raised loud enough to make his enhanced ears bleed.

But today is different.

He knows the dam’s about to burst, regardless of safety, and he isn’t ready…

_He’s so not ready for this!_

His hands ball up tight enough that he can’t unlock the stall door to make a run for it.

Instead, he kicks it down…its shattered blue pieces breaking the mirror on the opposite wall.

_‘Boss wants to see you.’_

_‘Is he here too?’_

_‘In the toilet? No, he’s upstate.’_

Why did every single thing have to be connected to Tony?

Everything!

_‘Everywhere I go, I see his face.’_

_‘Even in the bathroom, whilst puking your guts out, Peter?’_ , he mocks himself, body shaking from head to toe.

He reaches the empty decathlon room, pins and needles migrating down his sensitive calf muscles before they’re cramping up and giving out too.

Army crawling beneath the long table, he folds himself into a fetal position, pounding at his legs to correct them.

The high pitched sounds leak out of his throat next and he hates himself so much right now…wishes he could smother them with his own super strength instead of being subjected to it any longer.

“Helpme…elp me…help m’ please,” he whimpers to the air, knowing the one he needs right now is never coming to his rescue. “I can’t breathe…I can’t bre-“

“Peter,” a voice calls in the dark, thin shadows casting lines across the faded beige carpet.

_No, no. Not MJ…_

_Anyone but her._

_Not after she’s accepted him…_

_Not after the kiss they’ve just shared a few days ago…_

_Not after she’s seen what he’s capable of…the power coursing through his veins._

“Peter?”

“Oh…hi,” he squeaks out, “I’m sorry…so sorry. I’m fine. I’m good.”

MJ pivots around to where he can just make out her black converse sneakers, from the lights in the hallway… that is until she shuts the blinds and utter darkness blankets them both.

“It’s a…you’re having a panic attack, right?” she asks, soft voice quivering, “Tell me what to do, dork, or I’m getting an adult in here.”

Peter swallows a few times, gasps escalating and encompassing the tiny space, “I don’t know…never had it…like this before,” he replies, feeling her hands sliding beneath his arms to drag him out from under the table.

“I can’t feel my fingers…or my legs…” he says, feeding off the care she’s exuding, “Help, MJ…please, help me.”

“I’m trying, babe,” MJ replies, moving herself around to where she can cradle his head against her chest.

She’s never called him that before.

They don’t even have pet names yet, but Peter can’t revel in the moment when he finds himself on the verge of passing out.

“I’ve got you,” his girlfriend continues, and Peter can feel her trembling against his cheek.

 _‘She’s scared too’,_ he realizes.

…’or embarrassed,’ his insecurity offers without remorse.

But, still, she continues to soothe him in her own way…starting with gentle pats to his back, eventually running her fingers through his curls and rubbing his ear with her thumb.

It must be having some effect; because he’s able to breathe a bit deeper…can almost feel his legs again.

His eyes slip shut.

“Peter,” MJ says after some time, “I think this might be PTSD.”

Peter doesn’t object, just lets out a drawn out sigh as he comes to terms with the possibility, “Maybe…”

_Don’t, Peter…Not here…_

_Not in front of her._

“I miss him,” he says, bringing a hand over his face, “I miss him so much and I can’t stop it…”

“You can cry, dork…just cry, okay?”

_It’s over…totally over._

His body accepts her as safe, and there’s nothing to be done. He has no choice but to let it happen…and it’s awful.

“I want him,” he chokes out against her hoodie, grabbing the hem of it for dear life, “I want Mr. Stark.”

Peter feels a kiss on his temple, warmth lingering there for a moment before more travel down over his cheek and nose as his chest continues wracking in pain.

“I bet…he wants you too…wherever he is…” MJ murmurs.

Peter gives a pitiful laugh before it dissolves back in to a fresh wave of sobs.

Even so, she lets him…

If she’s disturbed, there’s no evidence.

Another five minutes goes by before Peter can speak again.

“I uh…It’s just, I watched him take his last breath, so…”

“Oh…”

“Yeah…it uh…It really sucked.”

“…’m sorry.”

_There’s still so much more…so much to unpack and pour out, but nothing else comes…_

They sit in awkward silence for a while longer, neither of them brave enough to carry on further until Peter finally lifts a hand to rest upon the back of MJ’s neck, hinting at what he wants, but unwilling to pull her down to him.

She obliges, slow and careful in finding his soft lips in the dark with her own…letting him draw out the comfort he needs from them.

It’s so gentle…much like the one they just shared on the bridge, but, this time, she’s overwhelmed by Peter’s grief…

There’s the taste of salty tears…his nose flaring and burning against hers…the choppy breaths that remain when he parts his lips, just a little.

She doesn’t press him for more than he offers, content to uphold his innocence and consequently, hers as well.

Peter breaks the contact first, blushing face masked in the dark as MJ plants a few more kisses on the corners of his mouth.

She waits for the anxiety to finish calming down the rest of the way, returning to playing with his chestnut tresses. 

“Just five more minutes…” Peter breathes.

“Ten.” MJ replies.

He lies in her arms for another fifteen.

**Author's Note:**

> This little piece takes place right before the identity reveal, maybe around a week after the vacation (provided there was a week in between those scenes).
> 
> I noticed Peter was holding back emotion and teary-eyed throughout the entire film, but I felt sad that he didn’t get to have a really good cry in someone’s arms…anyone’s arms!
> 
> So, I decided to play with MJ’s character a bit and imagine what she would do, watching her favorite boy break down…


End file.
